Rest of December: fail to turn up new trousers.
Rest of December: thus do not wear new trousers.
Early January: fail to turn up new trousers.
15 January: must turn up new trousers today so they can be worn to party tomorrow evening, when have sworn to wear them. As tomorrow evening involves driving 90 miles earlier in the day and staying overnight, this must be done by the end of today.
15 January: pin up trousers to different lengths, unsatisfactorily. Come to conclusion that trousers look better slouchy round the ankle. Decide not to shorten them.
15 January: wonder whether I still have that pair of very high heels that I might have chucked because they were too tight, on account of my feet not stopping growing until I was about 26.
15 January: no, I chucked them. Mid-heeled court shoes with straps** look stupid. Also, bottom of trousers don't fit over them anyway, so trousers are either designed for woman 6' tall, or are supposed to be slouchy round ankles. Decide the latter, and resolve to wear flats and go for slightly louche Bohemian look.
15 January: start to reconsider tops. Oh sod it, I'll pack them all and decide when I get there. That's what cars are for. Ditto jewellry.
The moral of this story is that life should involve more occasions for dressing up, because then I'd have already sorted this out. It is also that I should really, really get better at prioritisation.
*These are a pair I didn't buy. They looked amazing on (I was in "try on anything by imagining you are with your sister" spirit), had I been auditioning for the Rocky Horror Show, but ultimately mine is not a life that calls for such an aesthetic.
**I just cannot use the term "Mary-Janes" for shoes. It makes me feel like I'm in a Ramona book.
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